Small Leaves
by Withered Pages
Summary: From the bloody tree that is the story of ninja life, a few small leaves fall, some beautiful, some sad. Update: the God of Anbu: "Shinobi have gods. Anbu need a darker god than most." A collection of one-shots.
1. Gai

Gai vs Kakashi

* * *

He'd never let on, but Gai knew Kakashi's challenges were mostly cop-outs, though, in accordance with the rules of sportsmanship, he took them as seriously as his own.

So it was a pleasant surprise this time around when the other jounin didn't suggest a staring contest,

—_Kakashi had poked Gai in the eye for the victory after the second hour_—

or a thumb war,

—_that one had turned out surprisingly exciting, involving the creative application of a spatula_—

or a slow motion race,

—_how had Kakashi managed to float?_

No. this time it was—

"Taijutsu."

Gai had to take a few steps back despite himself.

"What?"

"You heard me. Taijutsu. No weapons, first pin gets it." Kakashi cricked a neck. "Unless you're not down."

Tears were already streaming down Gai's manly cheeks. "My dear Rival, you don't know how happy you've made me on this glorious day! Just when I'd thought your passion had faded to the embers of middle-age, you prove again that the Fire of Springtime burns within you yet!"

"We're...not middle aged..."

"Age is but a number, my Eternal Rival. As long as hot blood runs in us, we shall stay eternally Young!" Gai struck a pose, pointing towards the training grounds. "Off to our arena!"

He shot off. Kakashi followed, protesting weakly.

"We're still not middle-aged..."

Gai's stampede through Konoha would usually have been ignored as quotidian, but his cries of "Kakashi! We shall ignite the very trees with the heat of our passion!" and other words to that effect moved the foot traffic of Konoha such that a crowd milled in a large circle around Gai as he waited for Kakashi to arrive.

Gai could see Anbu lurking in the trees, concealed from all but the most elite jounin news had clearly spread across Konoha. Even the lone student Kakashi still had left in the village—_rumored to be the Hokage's new assistant, well-befitting the student of his Rival!_—was among the assembled, pink hair standing out from the crowd.

"Maa, did you have to make it so public?" Kakashi had arrived, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Gai swelled up with joy again as he watched his friend pick his way through the crowd.

Though Gai was free to pick whatever topic for his own challenges, he'd never gone so far as requesting a full taijutsu match. He knew his chances of getting the elusive jounin distracted from his inner darkness enough to do a challenge were tenuous enough already. To have one requested of him...Again, tears leapt to his eyes unbidden, though he let them spill proudly.

He threw his arms out wide.

"Kakashi! I'm ready, come on your count!"

Kakashi's lone eye squinted at the tears still streaming down Gai's face as he made the declaration, clearly having second thoughts. But with a shrug, Kakashi started unzipping his flack jacket. At Gai's inquisitive look, Kakashi explained.

"Thought it would get in the way."

The beaming smile on Gai's face morphed into something more fierce. Kakashi was taking this seriously.

He flung off his own jacket so all he wore was his own green jumpsuit.

"AGREED, my rival!" A hopeful thought struck, and he reached towards his pouch. "If you require, I always carry an extra jump..."

"No."

Kakashi got into position.

"Three."

The crowd seemed to have stopped breathing.

"Two."

Gai felt his heart accelerate, pumping his veins full of blood and excitement.

"_One_."

The world blurred.

* * *

**A/N: Nice to meet you! **

**Just wanted a place to dump headcanons and little snippets of scenes so that's what this is! **

**If you enjoy any of them, please leave a review! If you'd like any of them blown into full stories, let me know and I'll be super flattered. And probably dedicate it to you for inspiring me to make the piece more than it is. **

**Reviews are my sustenance and chapter dedications are my currency.**

**~Withered Pages~**


	2. Minato

Minato and Kushina

* * *

Minato knew he liked Kushina.

Minato realized he _loved_ Kushina the first time he saw her save a life.

Their second mission had gone sideways in a spectacular way when Daifuke, Kushina's old genin teammate, returned from his bathroom trip with a kunai held at his throat.

Five more enemy nin melted out of the shadows as the two free Konoha ninja instinctively went back to back.

"What're you doing here, Konoha?"

Minato slipped a hand into his kunai pouch. A bead of blood formed at Daifuke's neck. He stopped.

"None of that, blondie," the Kumo nin sneered.

Mind racing through all the possible scenarios, Minato held his hands up. There was nothing they could do without sacrificing Daifuke. Behind him, he felt Kushina doing the same, weapon-free hands rising in surrender.

Or so he thought.

"_Now!"_

Daifuke hit the ground.

Kushina's open palms fisted, and the glowing chakra chains that manifested made the world explode.

When the dust settled, Minato was in love.

* * *

Minato knew he loved Kushina.

Minato realized he wanted to _marry_ Kushina the first time she saved _his_ life.

Red hair flying, she dove right through the terrified swings of the samurai guard, chakra-suppressing manacles still around her wrists. She'd torn the chains off the wall when the guard had smashed Minato's head against the wall this particular torture session.

Hanging limply against the wall with those same manacles the only thing holding him up, Minato watched his teammate tear into the man. Kushina rarely ever had to use taijutsu, as her chakra chains usually left little room for argument.

There was little finesse to her movements.

There didn't need to be.

Teeth bared in an expression he'd seen once on a tiger in the Forest of Death, she crushed the man's trachea with an open-handed blow. Half-drunk from the concussion, Minato marveled at her raw power.

Guards yelled outside the bars of their cell. Footsteps thundered overhead. Kushina tore keys off the dead man's belt.

Concerned eyes wide in a way that belied the fact that she'd mauled a man to death just seconds before, Kushina was in front of Minato, keys skittering on his manacles as she hurried to open them.

Her hair was obscuring his face. He blew the strands off, wanting to never take his eyes off this woman again.

"Marry me."

Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, held a furrow between them.

"You're concussed."

He nodded happily in agreement.

"Marry me anyway."

Both of them were free of their manacles now. They both squared up to the small army gathering outside their cell.

"After this."


	3. Kakashi

**The God of Anbu**

* * *

_Note: No Yamanakas were harmed in the making of this fic._**  
**

* * *

Ask the Hokage what Kakashi Hatake was like, and he'll sigh about how this village just won't leave prodigies be. You will be dismissed quickly.

Ask his three genin, and they'd yell about lateness and pornography. You will leave confused, but thoroughly charmed by the cuteness of the three.

Ask his fellow jonin-sensei what Kakashi Hatake was like, and Gai will immediately dominate the conversation. Leave Konoha while you have the chance.

Ask his former Anbu subordinates, and you'll be taken in for questioning. Ibiki will shine a light into your face, demanding to know how you got in, why you want to know about the Copy-nin, and why you took such an idiotic way of gathering information.

I told you you should have left Konoha while you had the chance.

But if you _could _get an answer out of his Anbu subordinates—say you're some rookie that wants to know more about the legend that is the Hound—you might get this hushed, reverent reply.

The God.

Shinobi have their gods. Anbu, cynical and broken as they are, need a darker god than most.

They may say, in dark tones, that he hadn't cried once during his own birth, when he tore out of his mother's womb to claim his first kill. This, of course, has never been said in front of him.

Others may say with a healthy dose of sarcasm—because they were joking, of course they were joking—that Sakumo Hatake had climbed a mountain one day and found the babe, an incarnation of the thunder god. That they'd hidden his face because his divinity would be too apparent otherwise.

They may say he'd developed his killing intent at the age of four, when he'd found the White Fang on the floor.

That the Academy-sensei had rushed him through graduation, thrust him on the frontline, knowing his rage could not be contained within the village.

That he'd almost singlehandedly ended the war, but that his bloodlust had left his teammate dead. Whispers that he'd torn his eye from the teammate when he'd realized the benefits of the Sharingan.

That the Yellow Flash had thrust him into Anbu after the war was over, knowing the ninja could never assimilate to peace.

The oldest of the Anbu may even tell you, if they're in the mood to scare a rookie that day, that in the early years after the war, he'd witnessed the Hound tear through a camp of Iwa nin they'd just happened across, not targets. That it hadn't mattered, and that the last one had gurgled his last even before the first dead hit the floor. That the Hound had started howling at the moon, a hoarse, full-throated bellow that had made even the veterans among them flee back towards home.

That the one time he'd been given a psyche test, the Yamanaka assigned had started screaming, screaming like his brain was melting.

They may even tell you that the Yamanaka was yet to stop screaming. That Inoichi had been too afraid to go in there to wipe the memory, in case he was affected the same way.

But then again, these same Anbu members would tell you that Itachi Uchiha never turned off his Sharingan eyes. That he'd licked his weapons clean after every battle, relishing the taste of blood. That the entire time he'd been in Anbu, he'd never spoken a word. Just took orders until he became an Anbu captain, took orders until he broke.

So you'll take these with a grain of salt.

But.

Itachi Uchiha had become a phantom bogeyman, a story that shinobi told their children to scare them. The memory, the shock of a clan numbering more than a hundred being wiped from the village in a single night had elevated the story of Itachi Uchiha to a fairytale, one that left people wondering if he was even human.

Kakashi Hatake was a living legend.

It was fact, and legend, that Hound had never failed a mission.

It was fact, and legend, that he'd run more than 700 Anbu missions in just ten years.

It was fact that his mask hung in the locker room, on the way out so that operatives could tap it on the way to the more dangerous missions. A custom that no one would explain.

Now you may scoff at the tales the older Anbu tell you, thinking to yourself, _what ninja loses control like that? A berserker is not a ninja. _An unreliable tool is a broken tool.

You—young, powerful, confident—may not tap the mask.

Then you, the rookie Anbu, will be called on a mission, on one of those missions so dark and dangerous and important that praying to vague deities in the ether is not enough. You will want to tap the mask.

You'll look and see that the mask is missing.

And you will see the tension in your compatriots ease, the shadow of death lifting from their faces to be replaced with a fierce light. They will hide that light with their own masks, as they file out to see the mask live again, filled with the man behind the legend.

You'll see Hound take the lead, bone-white armor shining, and the formation will shift to let him, in body and in spirit. You will feel your adrenaline rise, feeling a part of a pack, an invincible pack. You will not understand why this shift happens.

But the sense of power emanating from the living legend is infectious, and the mission is no longer to be feared, and you understand why that mask is hung up in the locker room.

With the God of Anbu lighting the way with the Raikiri, how could you lose?

* * *

**A/N: Of course, Kakashi's nowhere near as strong as Hashirama and co., but I feel like Anbu need a tangible thing to believe in. Who better than Kakashi Hatake, who they know have been through everything they have to go through and far, far more?**

**C****hecked the stats, according to ranker:** **"Kakashi has completed a grand total of 1,141 missions since the beginning of his career. 197 of those were simple D-Rank missions, 190 were slightly more complex C-Rank missions, 414 were B-Rank, 298 were difficult A-Rank, and 42 were S-rank") **

**Do the math assuming being at war was likely more of an assignment than a mission , say D's and C's don't count, you still come out with 754, and we know this could only have happened during the time he was in Anbu. He joins at 14, leaves at 26, to have the most conservative estimate we assume he served a full 12 years: that's an average of 62.8 B+ missions a year. There are 52 weeks in a year. **

**Like. **

**What. **

**Sounds like god status to me.**

**This legend wouldn't be flavored the way we know and love our kooky Copy Nin either, since this is from his fucked up days. **

**I imagine Kakashi himself would want to preserve the legend, this legendary version of the cold, merciless Friend-Killer Kakashi since this image of him helps ANBU function better on these suicidal missions. ****The emotional effect of having someone like that on your team can make more of a difference than the actual skills of the person involved.**


	4. Sasuke

Story of the Uchiha

* * *

Sasuke stood over the torn Amaterasu shrine.

Wherever they went, the Uchiha were feared.

_This was the same as saying wherever they went, the Uchiha were persecuted._

They worshiped their own gods, sang their own songs, and—when the mob inevitably came to them—died on their own grounds.

A long time ago_–before Madara had delivered and doomed them in the same act–_the Uchiha were exterminated every time blood-red irises met those of the wrong person.

Different names, different places, different betrayals every time, but the story went the same.

Men and women alike taking up arms to close those demon eyes forever. Uchiha babes dying in the same moment their eyes flashed red for the first time.

_eyes flashing blood red at the sight of their parents being struck down in front of them._

It was the story of the Uchiha, printed on some cosmic wheel. Promised by some thrice cursed deity to come around again and again, repeating for eternity.

The God of Shinobi himself had promised to bring an end to the story, to write over it with the story of friendship, of love, of _nakama_.

But the story of the Uchiha is written in blood, and it bled easily through Hashirama's lies.

Who weeps for those children?

_I do._


	5. Kabuto

Kabuto and the Slug

* * *

There's a secret rite for medic nin.

What makes for a medic nin? Superior chakra control, yes. Incredible brain power. Ambition. Drive.

But those attributes could apply to any job in the ninja field. Interrogator. Infiltrator. Assassin.

What truly made for a medic nin was greed.

Medic-nin were born when a ninja found mastery of death was not enough—when they thirsted to own life as well.

* * *

The first rite for medic nin is bringing a fish back to life.

They'd made it easy, placing a freshly caught fish over ice. The fish died peacefully, heartbeat slowing until it beat no more. Then Kabuto's glowing hand had jolted that little heart back to life. Another touch would have sent it back to wherever it had gone. And a third would have brought it back again. On. Off. On. Off.

That was just lightning. Lightning was _easy, _and people were only made of a little bit of lightning.

No, lightning wasn't enough.

This rite was about water.

People were made of water.

Kabuto had once asked Tsunade in the street why her summons was a slug—back when she was around and back when the world hadn't decided chasing knowledge was forbidden. She'd grinned as she continued walking, amused at the young healer. "You'll never find a better summons for a healer than a slug."

_Yes, _he'd wanted to ask. _But why? _

After the rite, he'd known.

The slug had shrunk as the water bubble between his hands grew, what little cell membrane the slug had turning dark and wrinkled and impossibly empty.

When he'd extracted all he could, the instructor had tapped the table and the husk of the slug had almost flown away at the small motion.

"Put it back."

And he could.

With nothing but a handful of water and the husk of a dead thing, he'd made life again. It had taken hours. The examiner, bored, had left for a dinner break halfway through. But when she'd returned, the slug was moving about again, waving its feelers.

A slug was water taking the form of life. Hold the water in your hand, hold the husk in the other. Where is the life?

After this rite, every medic nin knew. And now so did he.

Kabuto had accepted the clap on his shoulder, tired. Dazed. He'd owned life for a brief moment.

It wasn't enough.


	6. Ibiki

Ibiki and Inoichi

* * *

In his long career in torture and investigation, Ibiki had made a science of the study of fear, learning the weaknesses of humanity so he could use it and, in turn, rid it from himself.

Starting out, he'd used death threats and killing intent. His efforts had resulted in little, enemy nin gladly choosing the death he offered them.

No shinobi is a stranger to death. Each and every one made peace with the fact that they courted death with every mission they took.

So, no, fear of death was not the way to crack a ninja open, to have them spilling their secrets.

Fear for their loved ones, much more likely, much more useful. Once you found who those were, where they were, there was little you couldn't make someone give up. Seeing how they fell, Ibiki rid himself of family, rid himself of friends, sat content in the knowledge that the entire village was safe in his care by doing so, that no lone member's safety would be held above the rest.

There was an even simpler one, one that took years and years to get rid of: the fear of pain.

That fear had been beaten out of Ibiki the third time he'd been captured by the enemy. His training had held, and throughout the long, slow process of getting skinned from his fingertips to the shoulder, he hadn't said a word. Viewing the exposed flesh in the very distant, far away place he'd taken himself, he'd realized that there was no pain in this world great enough to break his will. And when the Anbu had finally battered down the door to extract him, he'd smiled beatifically, glorying in the knowledge that pain had not—could not—make him break.

One by one, Ibiki rid himself of the chinks in the armor, all the fears that could let the prying hooks of the enemy through to tear answers out from within him, until only one fear was left; the only fear worth having.

The fear of failure.

As he rose to Head, he became privy to the secrets he protected. Horrible secrets that would sear the soul of the village black if ever brought to the light of day. Atrocities that, though they _were_ atrocities, held the village strong. He learned them, then understood them, then the fear grew.

The fear of failure ballooned to fill the empty spaces left by all the other fears he'd cleared out. He had nightmares about being broken. Of failing to protect the village.

If you asked Ibiki who the most dangerous shinobi in Konoha was, which shinobi Konoha could not afford to lose, the answer would come immediately. There was only one shinobi he had nightmares about losing. One you couldn't defend against, not now, not ever.

Inoichi Yamanaka.

Still early on in his career, long before he'd become head of Torture and Interrogation, Ibiki had gone to Kurenai and asked how genjutsu caused fear.

She'd hemmed. "That's not really my go-to, most people are thrown off enough when they think they see a mokuton user that's crushing their spines."

"But you do know how?"

"Sure, there's a trick to it. From my understanding, there's a pattern of thought that _is _fear. No matter what you're afraid of, when you feel fear, this pattern of thought happens. Once you know how to form the pattern with your chakra and press it into their mind, even if you don't know what they're afraid of, you can make them see it." She'd laughed and rubbed her head, tousling her messy curls further. "It's not a great explanation, but you get the general idea."

She'd pointed him to a genjutsu theory book that did have the full explanation.

Memory was pattern, emotions were pattern, and different parts of the brain interpreted different aspects of the pattern.

It had made Ibiki use his own patterns to think long and hard. If all brain functions were physical electrical pulses, wouldn't it be possible to read it? Not just cause it, but read it?

Upon learning about the amygdala, Ibiki had tried exploring it with chakra in the head of his next interrogation subject. She'd died immediately, a failure that had Ibiki running to the texts again. It was the first, though not the last time Ibiki regretted Konoha's ban on human experimentation.

Later, much later, Ibiki brought it up to Tsunade. The Sannin was the only likely person in all of Konoha with the chakra control and medical knowledge necessary to read minds, though he didn't know if she'd studied genjutsu like Kurenai.

"Tsunade, can you create fear using chakra?"

She'd looked at him strangely.

"I...yes?"

"Can you show me?"

Another, very doubtful look. "You sure?"

"Yes."

When Tsunade's killing intent slammed into him, it was so powerful it was almost _physical._ Ibiki had thought his heart would stop from the pressure. The trembling in his limbs lingered even after she withdrew the killing intent.

"I mean, it's pretty basic stuff, Ibiki."

Ibiki had bit back the retort that nothing about what she'd just done was basic, when the weight of her unfathomable power had felt like a slap from the hand of a vengeful god. But he didn't, because the weight of her power _did _feel like a slap from the hand of a vengeful god and, while he'd overcome the fear of pain, self-preservation was just common sense.

"Ah... I don't think I was clear. " He'd gone on to explain Kurenai's book and fear, and pattern, and how he figured if they could figure out how to cause fear, they could sidestep the T part of T and I. That had been when, offhandedly, Tsunade had said it.

Inoichi Yamanaka, the Head of T and I, could read minds.

He'd suppressed his excitement. Possession was common, there were any number of forbidden jutsu that could control another person's body against their will. He asked if she was talking about the well-known Mind Body Switch Technique.

She'd shaken her head and repeated that Inoichi Yamanaka could read minds.

He'd had to double-check, he'd asked if she meant that he had the perceptive abilities of the Hyuuga clan with their Byakugan, or like Kakashi with the Sharingan.

She'd refused to talk to him after that, saying she didn't have time to explain obvious things to underlings.

Inoichi Yamanaka could read minds. He could reach into a person's mind and pull out an entire life's worth of memories in an hour. He could see your thoughts as you were thinking them, feel your emotions as you were feeling them.

Torture and interrogation tactics were taught in Konoha only because Inoichi could not be everywhere. Whenever any true interrogation was happening in Konoha, Inoichi handled it.

The wave of jealousy had risen up as he heard more tales from his fellow interrogation members about the head he'd never met.

"Inoichi can make it so subjects don't even remember being taken into interrogation."

"Inoichi once took a Iwa nin and moved the personality of his _dog _into him. It's true, I watched him piss on the floor myself. They sent him back like that as a lesson."

"I once saw him _really _mad, and the person he interrogated didn't have anything left in her head when he was done. Just a vegetable. I had to mercy-kill her."

"But, overall, solid dude. Have you seen his flower shop?"

Ibiki did go to see the flower shop. The man had welcomed him in, introduced him to his pregnant wife as a rising star in T and I. Ibiki had been too afraid to meet the blue pupils of the mind-reader, opting instead to peer into the lilies.

"Going on a date, Ibiki-kun?"

It had taken a while for Ibiki to get around to explaining why he was there, during which time Inoichi went through every ninja Ibiki's age (and quite a bit older) to try and guess who the famously stoic Ibiki could possibly be getting flowers for.

It was when Inoichi guessed Minato that Ibiki asked if there was a defense against Inoichi's technique.

The man had smiled. "Not the first time."

"But the second time?"

"It's only ever the first time."

That had twisted Ibiki's lips into a smile that he'd directed down into the lilies, understanding. This man could mold memories, _people,_ however he wished; of course he would wipe all memories of the encounter.

Then realization struck.

Ibiki's head shot up to look Inoichi directly in the pupils that he'd known were blue without looking. Pupils set in a face that maybe, just maybe, looked familiar.

But then, how would he know?

He wouldn't remember.

* * *

**A/N: Like there's no way there isn't a little piece of paper somewhere in the Hokage's office that says if a Yamanaka turns rogue, they are to kill them on sight. That's just too OP in a world of secrets. **


	7. Ino

**Know Yourself**

* * *

_Note: One Yamanaka was harmed in the making of this fic. He's okay though._

* * *

Ino knew that she was strong. She'd always been told that she was.

Granted, she'd been told this by people who lied for a living, but she was also in the unique position of being the arbiter of truth, as her father was. Sure, the game was deception, but her business was truth. She saw the truth of their praise in the way they hesitated to look into her eyes.

And a strong kunoichi deserved a strong counterpart.

She'd surprised at herself at the age of 7, when Ibiki-san had brought a blush to her face.

The man dropped by the flower shop every so often, and was always the subject of the most interesting stories from her father.

"Ibiki-kun once went into enemy territory _alone, _and came out with not only the idiot that got himself captured, but with a to-go box filled with food for the trip home."

"Ibiki-kun wouldn't cry at a boo-boo like that, honey, he stopped feeling pain years ago."

"It's not my fault, Ibiki-kun wouldn't let me _leave_ today, honey, it was awfulllll. I had to read _all _the reports I'd put in the whatever pile."

She'd made a flower arrangement for Ibiki-san-a cute thing made from the lilies he liked to look at so much-tried to jab it stealthily in his cap as he left.

A hand had grabbed the bundle like a striking snake and an amused Ibiki-san had looked up to where she'd hidden in a ceiling cabinet to get to his height.

"What has Inoichi been teaching you?"

Her father had bustled out of the backroom at the question. "Hmm?"

"Your kid tried to stab me in the head with a bunch of flowers." He'd waved the offending arrangement. "She's going to be a real killer one day."

She'd blushed, and Ibiki had reached up to swing the little princess of T/I down from the cabinet.

He was so _tall _and _strong, _and an amazing shinobi.

Of course, Ino, even at that age, had enough Yamanaka in her to break that down. She couldn't like Ibiki-san, he was so _old_.

No, she liked that he was strong, and scary, and a good shinobi. Who was that in her grade?

_Sasuke-kun._

Liking Ibiki-san meant that she must like Sasuke-kun. Basic logic.

So she did.

* * *

When Ino graduated the academy, her father took the family out to dinner.

Overcome with emotion at the thought of his little girl finally taking her first steps towards adulthood, he'd sobbed on her mother's shoulder through the appetizers, the two Yamanaka women sharing a resigned grin over the antics of the patriarch.

Ino had finally cut into the lamentations over the tragic, fleeting beauty of childhood to ask if her father had any advice going forward.

This had brought on a fresh onslaught of tears.

"Don't die, Ino. Oh by all the gods, Ino, don't die."

She'd rolled her eyes. She'd been younger then, not known that that was the only advice that ever really mattered, that it was the only thing a shinobi that had lived long enough to be a parent could ever hope to impress upon their child. It'd take Inojin to teach her that. "Right, Dad. That's new."

Her father had reached out to clasp her shoulder firmly, desperately.

"Before anything else, _know yourself_. Our family deals with deception and lies, and oh my baby girl..."

Ino's mother placed a hand over her husband's glass, shaking her head at the waiter that had come to refill it. Inoichi composed himself enough to continue.

"You can't survive if you don't know yourself. There always needs to be one thing you're sure of, and in the ninja world, that one thing is your own mind. Know that, and you'll be fine. You'll make such a wonderful, powerful kunoichi..." His voice broke.

He'd cried all the way home, a sight that hadn't surprised the Konoha ninja they met along the way in the slightest. Inoichi's family was the one weakness that the ex-T/I director wore proudly, and most of the higher echelons of Konoha'd been given a steady diet of Ino pictures through the years.

Just earlier that day, most of T/I had shown up to congratulate the likely future director at her graduation. The sight of the crowd of rough-looking shinobi milling around her parents with bouquets in hand had warmed her heart, especially when Ibiki-san had dropped a haphazard handful of lilies in her arms with the muttered statement, "You'll be a scary one, alright."

As unimpressive as the delivery of her father's "words of wisdom" had been, she'd taken them to heart. Her father never talked directly about his work in T/I or being a ninja, an artifact more of the security clearance he dealt with everyday more than any unwillingness to share details of his life with his family. Even training had focused mostly on the mechanics of the clan jutsu, no broad sweeping lectures breaking down what it took to be a shinobi, doing shinobi things. Her father was known as an incorrigible gossip, but those aspects of his life were locked tightly away.

This one piece of advice, this very _Yamanaka_ piece of advice, directly addressing her future as a kunoichi was the only one she could foresee getting for a while.

_Know yourself._

That seemed simple enough.

Since the age of seven, Ino had known who she was. A strong, scary kunoichi who'd one day marry a strong, scary shinobi. Probably Sasuke-kun.

At the age of twelve, she was proven horribly, horribly wrong.

The time after that was packed with _things. _Too many things for her to bother trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered understanding of herself. There were more important things than that. The rookies had been taught their lesson. They were not strong enough, not even nearly. And though her father tried, for once, to share his work with her, though even Ibiki-san had come to her door to try to convince her to join T/I, she shook her head at both things. She'd never grow stronger delving into people's minds over and over again, never develop the devastating strength Sakura shocked the world with once Tsunade-sama took her under her wing. She took up medical ninjutsu after that, hoping it wasn't too late. She needed to be strong again. She needed to be scary again.

Then Asuma-sensei died.

And her father's creed, _k__now yourself, _may have backfired, because she saw herself for what she was; a smaller piece in a much much larger game, with so much more at stake than her own life. She was a Konoha shinobi, willing to die for other Konoha shinobi.

Her father had tried to stop her, telling her that that was not who she was. That facing the Akatsuki was certain death. She'd thrown a pot full of lilies at him, screaming that she'd rather die before letting them get away with taking what was _hers_. He'd grabbed her wrists to keep her from causing any more damage, and she'd dissolved into frustrated tears, asking him, who knew her best (who knew _everyone_ best), if she really was so weak that she should let her loved ones die.

He'd looked deep into her eyes, a perfect reflection of his own, and let her go.

And in their insane revenge effort, she'd faced the lightning shooting towards Team 10 from the monster Kakuzu and known that she would die. Known that she had not been strong enough.

Then, like Asuma-sensei's hand intervening, Sakura's sensei, the only one that had stepped up to lead the mission, the only one that had _understood, _had stopped it. His silhouette against the blinding light of the lightning he repelled had seemed so tall, as tall as Ibiki had to her seven year old self.

The two Akatsuki members had almost not even bothered deal with the rest of Team 10, focusing their efforts on bringing down the shinobi that flitted through their attacks with an ease that belied the exhaustion clear on his face.

He was using an internal fuel there, stronger than chakra. Ino knew in a thudding heartbeat what that fuel was. The same fuel that she'd recognized in the stories of Ibiki as she sat on her father's knee, seven year old mouth wide in amazement. The fuel that had been missing from Sasuke.

Devotion.

At the age of sixteen, standing there uselessly, Ino found herself in that battle-torn outcrop of rocks, standing behind the man that _would not let them die. _

And Ino felt shame.

She'd meant to do that. She'd meant to be devoted to the good of Konoha, She'd _thought _this was her duty, to end the bastards that had killed the finest son of Konoha, to let the world know what would happen if they struck one of her own.

But no.

Devotion meant seeing beyond herself.

She'd never been a fighter. She'd never had a chance. And yet she'd come here to satisfy her petty pride, for a shot at the empty medal of being the hand that ended Hidan's life. She hadn't been able to imagine enduring the pain of staying behind, staying behind and being _useful_. Because she was proud. Because she was weak.

And her father's creed, _k__now yourself, _may have worked, because in that moment she saw herself for what she was; a smaller piece in a much much larger game, with so much more at stake than her own pride. She was a Konoha shinobi, willing to save other Konoha shinobi.

When they arrived home, she joined T/I.

* * *

The next day, groaning from the pain that was living after a battle like that, Kakashi found a cute little bouquet of lilies on his windowsill.

He twirled one absently, reaching for the hazy memory of the brief moments he'd spent in the Academy learning such things.

_Alstroemeria_._ Friendship and devotion._

He laid them next to Mr. Ukki.

* * *

**A/N: First installment of _Crushes. _Maybe. I'm going to leave it here for a bit to marinate and see if anyone says anything about it that makes me hate it. **_  
_

**I feel like there's a dichotomy between adult characters and children. Adults stay mostly static, dealing with how they shape society and children deal with how society shapes them, growing and changing through the progress of the narrative. And the process of "personal development" that we see is the shift from how each character finds that they have the strength within themselves to shape the world around them, and takes their place in the world. You need to know yourself before you can work effectively outside of it. Like Shikamaru needed to learn what the king is, Ino needs to know herself and her own place in the world before she can finally find what she's meant to be. You're not always meant to be what you were born to be, but...sometimes you are. **


	8. Lilies

**Outtake from Know Yourself: Lilies, aka Ibiki Morino is terrorized by every Yamanaka he meets. **

* * *

_Note: One Yamanaka was harmed in the making of this fic. He's not okay. _

* * *

It was her first day of T/I, which necessitated a two hour grind through the forms required to grant Ino full security clearance.

_I understand that Konoha reserves the right to delete my memory at their discretion._Ino Yamanaka__

_I understand that Konoha reserves the right to require withdrawal from contact with others outside the organization for any period of time, and that the circumstances and details thereof will be decided at their discretion. _Ino Yamana-_

A handful of loose lilies falling onto to the narrow desk made the rest of her signature indecipherable.

"Welcome, princess."

Ino looked up, heart thudding in her chest. Ibiki-san smiled down at her, leaning on the wall of her cubicle.

She looked down at the lilies, then back up, then dove for him, knocking him to the ground. He was grinning right up until she kissed him.

Their lips clashed messily, Ibiki-san seemingly too shocked to respond as Ino took what she would.

It was when she tried to move his hand up to her face that he pushed her away, scrambling up as she went flying. Eyes childishly wide in his scarred face, he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Ibiki-san-" He looked _terrified_. "Ibiki-san, it's okay-"

"No. No, it's _not_."

He fled.

Another new hire peeped out from behind his cubicle.

"Wow. What?"

Ino glared at him, then at all the other new hires sharing the office, the smartest of which were very studiously pretending that they hadn't seen anything happen.

"Shut up."

One of the Inuzukas in the room looked up.

"Do you hear that?"

Somewhere in the distance, because the ex-head of T/I was not in the habit of not immediately knowing whenever anything happened with his daughter, Inoichi was screaming.

* * *

**A/N: oh yeah, this is going to have crack fic too. I take myself too seriously, which was the whole point of Small Leaves, to get out of the practice of feeling I needed to produce something complete to feel like I did something and just write. _Tensions_ is a slog and a half because I get in my own head. **

**If you like crack fic, especially smexy, clumsily written crack fic, I suggest you check out _Autumn Leaves_, where I promise (at least) every third one is going to be crackerrific. That's where I'm getting over my phobia of putting my dirty/sillier thoughts on paper :p will be v tame right up until the point where it will be very abruptly not. **


End file.
